


ice ice baby

by brookeluvsdogs



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M, no I do not care, yes this is a dumb title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookeluvsdogs/pseuds/brookeluvsdogs
Summary: Peter took great pride in his ice-skating abilities. It gave him peace, allowed him to let go for a few moments. On the ice there was no pressing exams, or friendship worries, or deadlines no one to bug him when he wanted silence. He waited on baited breath for winter to come.
Relationships: Peter Dawson/George Mills
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: 'Holidays'





	ice ice baby

Peter took great pride in his ice-skating abilities. It gave him peace, allowed him to let go for a few moments. On the ice there was no pressing exams, or friendship worries, or deadlines no one to bug him when he wanted silence. He waited on baited breath for winter to come.

Each year since Peter was little, and even before he had been born, the Dawson’s had taken the train to Mr. Dawson’s brother’s house in Scotland for Christmas. A beautiful old log cabin-eqsue home, big enough to host the collection of extended family for the holidays. Even more gorgeous than the house itself was the lake a 5 minute through the forest. It wasn’t very large, maybe only 30 meters in diameter but it made for a perfect ice rink. Almost guaranteed to have frozen over by the time Peter and his family arrived, framed by snowy pines and bird song. Although, this winter was different for two reasons.

1) His father had gifted him a brand new pair of gorgeous, baby blue skates for his last birthday. He had outgrown the last pair (black, glittery when the sun hit them right), it had been time for an upgrade.

2) George was accompanying him to his uncle’s place this year. It was only for a few days before Christmas, then he would be back on the train home to his own family. But, it made all the difference.

Peter and George had known each other since early school days. Inseparable in the playground, joined at the hip, best friends. Although in the last couple years something else had settled over their friendship. A tension that took Peter months to work out the cause of. Then one spring afternoon, after he had been accepted to a university a few hours’ drive away, he went with a heavy heart to tell George the news. Only he to be choked with the fact he wouldn’t have his best friend on call any more.

No more George, literally, throwing rocks at his window. No more weekly arcade visits, George wiping the floor with Peter at Street Fighter. No more watching the brunette barrel down the back-alley footpath halfway between their houses at breakneck speed – already talking the second Peter was in hearing range. Peter watched him do that exact thing now, he couldn’t even focus on what George was saying. He had stopped dead at his end of the path. The only thought running through his mind was that what he felt for George was a lot deeper than friendship and if he didn’t act that second, he was worried he’d lose this closeness forever.

And maybe it had been the startling realization right there and then. Or maybe it was that the feelings had sat unacknowledged at the back of his mind for as long as they’d known each other. But, Peter had kissed his best friend before he could think of any negative consequences and, to Peter’s relief, his best friend had kissed back. George had laughed (face bright and beautiful) and admitted that he was going to make a move that day anyway.

A few months later, as the cool winters air frosted over the train windows, Peter sat with his boyfriend’s head on his shoulder. He listened to the soft, sleepy breathing and felt perfectly content.

They had left early, much to George’s dismay. Arrived in time for lunch, done a meet and greet with piles of cousins – aunties – uncles – grandparents - whoever else had been dragged along with them, taken a lazy afternoon nap, and finally set out to find George a pair of skates.

His uncle had a shed out the back of the house full of snow gear. Jackets, gloves, skates of family past. As soon as someone grew out of something it was delegated to the shed in the hopes of it finding a new Dawson to call home. As it turned out, Peter’s old pair (black, glittery, well loved) were the perfect size. The little part of him that believed in fate did a chipper flip in his stomach.

Decked out in old gear, George did a spin showing off his new fit. His cheeks and nose strawberry pink from the cold, eyes glinting with the grin that spread across his face. Peter made sure he pressed a kiss to each cheek and a final one to George’s nose. Before he could pull away, the smaller boy caught his lips with his own, hands pulling Peter at the waist. This set them back a few minutes – drowning in each other’s company, away from the bustle of the house. Stopping abruptly when George slipped an ice-cold hand under Peter’s several layers, the latter jumping back with a yelp. George only laughed, racing out of the shed when he caught Peter’s vengeful look.

They ran all the way to the lake, taking several tumbles in the snow. Both ending up covered in a layer of powder when they reached the top of the hill, lake and forest spread out before them in an icy glow. Peter smiled at the familiar site, relishing in George’s sharp inhale of amazement, marveling at the way the snow settled in his curls. The whole time they’d known each other Peter had wished over and over that he could bring George here. Always worrying it would be an overstep in their friendship to invite him to holidays with family. The look of George’s face - the snow in his hair, the flushed cheeks - made the wait worth it.

“I’ll race you down,” Peter yelled – already a quarter way down the hill, laughing at George’s outraged cry as he started after him.

Peter had seen George ice skate before. There was an ice rink in the town over that Peter spent copious amounts of time at. And since the pair were rarely seen apart, George had tagged along on several occasions. Most of the time he sat on the edge of the rink - doing homework, reading a book, sometimes just hi-fiving Peter with a grin each time he passed – but occasionally he would take to the ice, kitted out in hired skates and a t-shirt and jeans.

George wasn’t great at skating, but he sure was a sight to behold. To say he was ‘Bambi on ice’ would be a compliment. He barely made it a step on the frozen surface without falling straight down. When Peter’s brother (frequent ice rink taxi) had first witnessed George’s mad scramble skating style he had laughed so hard that he had ended up on the ice himself. But, each time he fell, George would be right back up with a killer grin, ready to go again. All that could be done was to admire his complete confidence in being absolutely terrible.

Without the side railings of the ice rink, George was even worse on the frozen lake. Because there was nothing non-human to support him, Peter acted as frame. He held both George’s hands and skated backwards. This meant that every time George went down, Peter went down with him. Despite the bruises they could already feel forming, they got back up. Only to fall again and again in a heap of limbs and narrowly missed blades in fits of giggles. Both were content in the others company, not worried about the lack of progress.

George gave up within half an hour, body warm from the exercise. He stood on the bank (feet firmly off the ice) and kissed Peter before retiring to log-turned-bench to watch his boyfriend do what he was best at.

Peter was graceful and gorgeous. Features knitted with concentration as he glided effortlessly over the frozen surface. He forgot that George was even watching but when he caught sight of him waving frantically he smiled softly and waved back without breaking routine. Quietly, he made a wish that every winter from now on went the exact same way.

**Author's Note:**

> this was for the 'holiday' prompt for the dunkirk writing server!  
> If you're interested in joining, click the link to check us out!  
> https://discord.gg/qkBGqJc


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